The Fort: A Novel of the Revolutionary War - xaviantvision

"A hundred cannon, sir," Wadsworth said to Lovell. "A hundred cannon filling the harbor! The noise alone will distract the enemy. And the marines, sir,leading the way. We hurl a thousand men against the enemy, all at once!""It should get the business done," Hacker said in much the same tone he might have used to describe striking down a topmast or shifting a ton ofballast."A hundred marines," Lovell said in a plaintive voice that made it clear he would have preferred to have all the marines ashore."I need some to board the enemy ships," Hacker said."Of course, of course," Lovell conceded."But the marines are begging for a good fight," Hacker growled. "They can't wait to prove themselves. And just as soon as the enemy ships are taken ordestroyed, sir, I'll order the rest of the marines and every sailor I can spare to join your assault.""Ships and men, sir," Wadsworth said, "fighting as one."Lovell's gaze flicked uncertainly between Wadsworth and Hacker. "And you think it can be done?" he asked the naval captain."Soon as the tide floods," Hacker, said, "which it will this afternoon.""Then let it be done!" Lovell decided. He planted both fists on the table. "Let us finish the job! Let us take our victory!""Sir? Captain Hacker, sir?" A midshipman appeared at the edge of the clearing. "Sir?""Boy!" Hacker acknowledged the breathless lad. "What is it?""Commodore Saltonstall's compliments, sir, and will you return to the Providence, sir."The men at the table all stared at the boy. "Commodore Saltonstall?" Lovell eventually broke the silence."He was discovered this morning, sir.""Discovered?" Lovell asked in a hollow voice."On the riverbank, sir!" The midshipman appeared to believe he had brought good news. "He's safe on board the Warren, sir.""Tell him . . ." Lovell said, then could not think what he wanted to say to Saltonstall."Sir?""Nothing, lad, nothing."Hoysteed Hacker slowly crumpled the hand-drawn chart and tossed it onto the campfire. The first gun of the new day fired.Lieutenant John Moore, paymaster to His Majesty's 82nd Regiment of Foot, knocked nervously on the house door. A cat watched him from the log pile.Three chickens, carefully penned by laced withies, clucked at him. In the garden of the next door house, the one nearer the harbor, a woman beat a rugthat was hanging from a line suspended between two trees. She watched him as suspiciously as the cat. Moore raised his hat to the woman, but sheturned away from the courtesy and beat dust from the rug even more energetically. A gun fired from the fort, its sound muffled by the trees surrounding thesmall log houses.Bethany Fletcher opened the door. She was wearing a shabby brown dress beneath a white apron on which she wiped her hands, which were red fromscrubbing clothes. Her hair was disarrayed and John Moore thought she was beautiful. "Lieutenant," she said in surprise, blinking in the daylight."Miss Fletcher," Moore said, bowing and removing his hat."You bring news?" Beth asked, suddenly anxious."No," Moore said, "no news. I brought you this." He held a basket towards her. "It's from General McLean, with his compliments." The basket containeda ham, a small bag of salt, and a bottle of wine."Why?" Beth asked, without taking the gift."The general is fond of you," Moore said. He had discovered the courage to face four times as many rebels as the men he led, but he had no courageto add "as am I." "He knows life is hard for you and your mother, Miss Fletcher," he explained instead, "especially with your brother absent.""Yes," Beth said, but still did not take the proffered gift. She had never refused the simpler rations offered by the garrison to the inhabitants ofMajabigwaduce, the flour, salted beef, dried peas, rice, and spruce beer, but McLean's generosity embarrassed her. She walked a few paces further fromthe house so that her neighbor could see her clearly. She wanted to give no excuse for any gossip."The wine is port wine," Moore said. "Have you ever tasted port wine?""No," Beth said, flustered."It is stronger than claret," Moore said, "and sweeter. The general is fond of it. He served in Portugal and acquired a taste for the wine which is said tobe a tonic. My father is a doctor and he frequently prescribes port wine. Can I put it here?" Moore placed the basket on the threshold of the house. Inside,beyond an open inner door, he had a glimpse of Beth's mother. Her face was sunken, still and white, her open mouth dark, and her hair straggling white ona pillow. She looked like a corpse and Moore turned away quickly. "There," he said, for lack of anything else to say.Beth shook her head. "I cannot accept the gift, Lieutenant," she said."Of course you can, Miss Fletcher," Moore said with a smile."The general would not . . ." Beth began, then evidently thought better of whatever she had been about to say and checked herself. She brushed away astray lock of hair and tucked it under her cap. She looked anywhere but at Moore."General McLean would be hurt if you refused the gift," Moore said."I'm grateful to him," Beth said, "but . . ." Again she fell silent. She took a thimble from the pocket of her apron and turned it in her fingers. She shrugged."But . . ." she said again, still not looking at Moore."But your brother fights for the rebels," Moore said.She turned her eyes on him, and those eyes widened with surprise. Blue eyes, Moore noted, blue eyes of extraordinary vitality. "The general knows?"she asked."That your brother fights for the rebels? Yes, of course he knows," Moore said with a reassuring smile. He stooped and recovered the thimble whichhad fallen from her hands. He held it out to her, but Beth made no move to take it and so, very deliberately, he placed it in the basket. Beth turned to lookat the harbor through the trees. The fog was gone and Majabigwaduce's water sparkled beneath a summer sun. She stayed silent. "Miss Fletcher'" Moorebegan."No!" she interrupted him. "No, I can't accept.""It is a gift," Moore said, "nothing more, nothing less."Beth bit her lower lip, then turned defiantly back to the red-coated lieutenant. "I wanted James to join the rebels," she said, "I encouraged him! I carriednews of your guns and men to Captain Brewer! I betrayed you! Do you think the general would offer me a gift if he knew I'd done all that? Do you?""Yes," Moore said.That answer startled her. She seemed to crumple and crossed to the log pile where she sat and absentmindedly stroked the cat. "I didn't know what tothink when you all came here," she said. "It was exciting at first." She paused, thinking. "It was new and different, but then there were just too manyuniforms here. This is our home, not yours. You took our home away from us." She looked at him for the first time since she had sat down. "You took ourhome away from us," she said again."I'm sorry," Moore said, not knowing what else to say.She nodded."Take the gift," Moore said, "please.""Why?""Because the general is a decent man, Miss Fletcher. Because he offers it as a token of friendship. Because he wants you to know that you candepend on his protection whatever your opinion. Because I don't want to carry the basket back to the fort." Beth smiled at that last reason and Moorestood, waiting. He could have added that the gift had been given because McLean was as vulnerable as any other man to a fair-haired girl with anenchanting smile, but instead he just shrugged. "Because," he finished."Because?""Please accept it," Moore said.Beth nodded again, then wiped her eyes with a corner of the apron. "Thank the general from me.""I will."She stood and crossed to the door where she turned. "Goodbye, Lieutenant," she said, then picked up the basket and was gone inside."Goodbye, Miss Fletcher," Moore said to the closed door.He walked slowly back to the fort and felt defeated.The three ships dipped to the wind, they swooped on the long waves, the seas broke white at their cutwaters, their sails were taut and the wind was brisk